


dusk (we will never look back)

by amako



Series: ShikaSakuWeek Hanami 2019 [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Choices, Depression, F/M, Forests, Healing, Love, More in the notes, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Pace, a ridiculous amount of love in fact, critical of Naruto as a Hokage, so much love, they run away and build a house in the forest, they're really important in this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 11:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amako/pseuds/amako
Summary: They're not the heroes. They're not the ones who get to make the choices that shape the future, the choices that will decide the colour of the days the world will get to live later. They're background players, in the shadows of those whose names will never be forgotten. They don't make the choices, they suffer them.





	dusk (we will never look back)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mouseymightymarvellous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouseymightymarvellous/gifts).



> Written for ShikaSaku Hanami 2019  
> Day 2: you wake at dusk
> 
> this is my favourite work of the whole week. it's also incredibly long and slow paced, because i wanted a story about healing and love and quiet joys and silence. that may not be your cup of tea. it's also a gift to my favourite person, my precious person, who read what i thought was the boring part and told me it was super cool. thank you.
> 
> a warning: this work is critical of naruto as a hokage. not of naruto as a character, because i really like his character. but i do think that making him hokage early on is a terrible decision, considering he can't even read kanji through most of the manga. he has a lot to learn before becoming hokage, and i think he has a load of issues to work through related to his abandonment issues, his codependency of his team and his naive nature at times. what's explored in this story is what would have happened if kishi had taken seriously what he had set up naruto to be as a character and then allowed him to be the poor hokage he would have been soon in life. that's not to say he can't be a good political leader but konoha is a military dictatorship, and naruto as we know him is not capable of being a dictator when the fourth war ends. again, if reading a work that explores the failures he'd have faced if kishi had taken him seriously isn't something you want to read, you are encouraged not to read and to find a work that suits your tastes more. no point in upseting yourself with a work that won't bring you any entertainment.
> 
> japanese:  
> sentaku: choice, decision  
> anata: nickname to call your spouse  
> koishi: pebble, gravel  
> tankou: mine, coal mine  
> kouseki: ore, mineral  
> koumyaku: vein (of ore), lode  
> ganseki: rock  
> houseki: gem, jewel
> 
> the calendar i created because fuck it:  
> there are eleven months. the year starts at the largest moon, which is in the middle of winter.  
> Allnights - Freezing - Firstsnow - Blizzard - Awakening - Rainsbloom - Warmer - Pyredays - Harvest - Goldleaves - Slowdays  
> a month is made of nine quadrants and each quadrant is four days.

The world has never been kind to them.

They're not the heroes. They're not the ones who get to make the choices that shape the future, the choices that will decide the colour of the days the world will get to live later. They're background players, in the shadows of those whose names will never be forgotten. They don't make the choices, they suffer them.

Maybe it's a little less true for her. People recognize her in the street. Her name won't be forgotten. But it's not quite the right people, though, is it?

Naruto would never say it, most importantly because that's not how his mind spells it out for him, but the recognition of civilians was never what he aimed for. He wants the shinobi force's respect, not the civilians'. Sasuke probably never even talked to a civilian in his life.

Sakura, on the other hand, is the hero of the civilians. In the year after the war, an impressive twenty-six Sakura are born to Konoha. The numbers are lower, but still as impressive considering, in the rest of the Land of Fire and the other countries. There is an actual holiday celebrated for her, on the first day of spring, when the sakura trees shed their first petals.

The shinobi know Haruno Sakura, but they don't _adore_ her, the way the civilians do. And the shinobi are the ones making the choices.

So, alongside Shikamaru, Sakura is a background player, in the shadows. She doesn't make choices, she suffers them. They both do, when Shikamaru is appointed advisor of a Hokage he likes as a friend but thinks is a terrible leader in the actual state of his political and financial knowledge.

He isn't allowed to say no, because Naruto would never understand why his friend would refuse to work with him, and wouldn't accept to hear the concerns of someone far more suited for the job than Naruto will ever be. Blood doesn't make a leader, and Naruto has never been one. A beacon of hope, a saviour, always. But not a leader.

Shikamaru suffers the choice and stays quiet, cleans up behind Naruto when needed and hires two personal assistants for himself and four more for his two assistants. He makes sure they have an actual Council, since the two old councillors died, comprised of competent people who make all the hard decisions behind Naruto's back. It isn't a stable government, not by any stretch, but it does the job and it's what Shikamaru was hired for.

Sakura is fired from the hospital. Obviously, not with so many words, no one would dare. She's pushing for mandatory therapy sessions, a more progressive approach of gender roles and major changes in the hospital textbooks. Tsunade is recovering in Suna, still too tired to move back to Konoha, and no one is here to back her up with her changes that make the hospital staff uncomfortable.

Oh, everyone who fought with her supports her, out of both respect and appraisal of her competence in the medical field. Except that no one in the hospital fought with her, because she's the only field-medic of the entire shinobi force. Without any support, she's quietly pushed away from her Head position and replaced with someone a little safer for hospital policies.

Sakura suffers the choice and stays quiet, cleans up behind the hospital messes when needed and goes to Naruto for funding to open a field-medic training facility. He grants it to her on account of not really understanding what she's asking and Shikamaru telling him it's a good idea.

The facility is built on the edge of the Nara Compound so they can study the medical plants the clan has been growing for generations, with permission from the acting Clan Head, Nara Yoshino. It's huge, with dorms and a cafeteria, a lab for Sakura and a few offices, including one for a therapist.

Haruno-sensei trains chūnin and jōnin alike who are willing to undergo a career change for the chance of saving their teammates. The war left a scar on the force's soul. She snatches genin right out of the Academy because the jōnin instructors are in her pocket and include in the genin teams' schedule a session by quadrant at the facility.

Shikamaru and Sakura don't make choices, they suffer them, and they come out stronger from that suffering. They make it their biggest asset and they play like master puppeteers in the shadows to protect Konoha.

It's what got them together during the war, when they had to make sacrifices no one could accept, when the choices that were taken from them left them with a scarred soul and guilt running so deep its roots couldn't be weeded out anymore.

They shared a drink, the space next to a still-warm corpse, panic attacks, a sleeping bag, the medical tent. They shared their hurt and built a house of trust from bricks tainted by their bloody, guilty hands. They kissed under the new moon of a sky free from the Jūbi and never quite stopped loving each other since then.

They shared the hardship of the choices taken from them even when the war was over, and got married as soon as the rebuilt Konoha administration could hand over the papers, sharp edges fitting together in the most painful, beautiful puzzle they could make.

 

The world has never been kind to them, so they've been kind to each other, and eleven years into their marriage, they get to make a choice. And it's such a huge thing for them, the opportunity of a choice, something that will never be dependent on others, something that is theirs. It's the most beautiful gift they could give each other, to offer themselves a choice.

Sitting down in the inner garden of their house, in the Nara Compound, they count the days. Shikamaru gathers herbs from the clan's greenhouse and makes a tisane for Sakura. On the day marked in the calendar, she drinks the tisane and they make their choice. Just in case, they make it a few more times that day. They are the careful type.

A month later, Sakura comes home from teaching her classes to find Shikamaru already back from his meeting with the Council, arranging a game of shōgi to play with her. He's made tea, and gotten out the mochi they made together on their off-day, because it's fun and messy and they always get the sticky rice dough all over themselves.

They eat the mochi and drink tea and Sakura loses at shōgi, and it feels like habits and safety and love. So she crawls on her knees around the board, snuggling up against her husband until her head is tucked under the side of his neck. Her lips are brushing against his ear when she tells him they made the right choice.

 

“Really?” he whispers out to the universe, holding her tight, his eyes lost on the rice paper of their bamboo walls.

“Next winter,” she murmurs against his throat, and he shivers. “Right before Firstsnow starts.”

 

Shikamaru smiles, and smiles, and smiles.

 

When Sakura poured all of herself into making sure Neji, then Sasuke, then Naruto survived this stupid war, she almost killed herself. The last drops of her chakra went into sealing Naruto's arm so he wouldn't bleed out on the stone and die when Sasuke had failed to kill him all those years.

In thanks, Kurama had poured all of it right back into her when Naruto was fully recovered. The sudden burst of warm, _alive_ chakra acted like a second puberty. All her bones and muscles growing suddenly, the pain coming with it, until she had gained a head to match her teammates in height and broadness of shoulders. And some unexpected acne scars that she wears like a badge of pride. Shikamaru counts them like stars in a summer sky, next to her freckles, wondering quietly if he can draw their future on the map of her cheeks.

None of her clothes fitted her anymore, so she stocked up on the jōnin uniform and wore that instead of her usual red clothes. She looks wildly different to the Sakura who fought a war. Tall, broad, dressed in dark blue fabric and clothes that don't fit close to the skin. After a while, she didn't even bother with her own clothes and simply washed everything together, because Shikamaru and her both wear the same size and the same clothes now.

It's probably why no one notices. Until one day she's too tired to fight her students, so she goes home early and appoints her assistant to replace her. She waits for Shikamaru in the inner garden and truly takes the time to sunbath. It's the middle of Harvest, a little closer to Goldleaves and the weather is warm but dry, a bearable heat.

 

“Anata?”

She hums, eyes closed. Her face salutes the sun, while he sits down next to her. “I think it's time,” she says, a quiet sort of happiness going through her body. She feels Shikamaru shift next to her, then a weight on her thighs. Her hands find his hair easily, taking off the elastic without having to open her eyes.

“I'm glad, Sakura,” he says, low and deep.

Her closed eyes sting, but it's a good one. “Me too.” She smiles.

 

Eventually, they get up. In their bedroom, they have bags already waiting for them. Two storages scrolls tied to each side, a medical pouch on the front. They're empty, waiting for the fresh food they can't seal in the scrolls. Sakura goes to the kitchen and takes the few vegetables and many fruits they have on hand while Shikamaru goes to the outer garden to harvest the ripe vegetables and put them in his bag.

Hand in hand, like the many tourists who visit Konoha in the summer, they go to the Jōnin Station. It's almost evening, most of the lower ranking staff gone home already. Some jōnin are relaxing on the couches, a squad barely home is huddled in a corner with post-mission jitters. It's like a pack closing in on its most fragile members, the two women putting themselves between the injured man and the rest of the room while they familiarize themselves with Konoha again and the idea of safety.

Sakura and Shikamaru exchange a look, born of a decade of marriage and care, and they split up. Shikamaru leaves for the offices, while Sakura approaches the squad. Maybe it's her hair, or the soft look on her face, or maybe it's simply her reputation, but the women let her come close enough to touch. When her hand lights up green, they part to let her pass and close the way behind her, including her in their silent, watchful protection.

 

“Hello, jōnin-san. I'm Haruno-sensei. I'll heal your injury and let you go back to your squad. I will keep the skin-to-skin contact to a minimum, as well as the talking. I won't address you unless you address me from now on and if communication is a problem, tap twice on my forearm and I will ask you what's wrong.”

 

She falls silent and makes quick work of the broken wrist, watching him relax slowly as he seems to focus more on her, his breathing calming down. Then she closes the wound on his side and he takes a deep breath, a conscious action that tells her he's coming back to the present. His eyes meet hers for the first time and a pained smile brightens up his face. She returns the gesture, simply happy to be able to help.

 

“Are your teammates injured as well, jōnin-san?”

His voice is rough and he coughs a few times. “No, they're fine. I took the brunt of it so they could get the intel.”

“Alright, then I'm all done with you. I suggest you take a room somewhere and stay there with your teammates until you all feel safe enough to be out in the village. Thank you for your service,” she adds with a small nod.

 

Sakura rises and carefully walks around the two women who are finally relaxing. They immediately gather around their healed teammate, but their protectiveness feels more like that and less like a threat. She walks up to the offices, looking for Shikamaru's familiar chakra. With a discreet knock, she enters and sits down next to him. He's leaning over some papers, filling them out in a quick and precise manner.

She grabs some and helps him with it, and soon enough they hand the papers back to the desk chūnin who is watching them with barely concealed curiosity. The man reads through their forms, nodding in approval before handing them passes.

 

“This is for free passage in all the Alliance nations, as well as confirmation of your rank and decorations. You still need to carry your ID and wear you hitai-ate. Do you have any questions?” They both shake their head. “Then it's all good on my end. You are officially on leave starting today. Given your service history, there is no limit to the time you can take. However, for more than five years, you need to come check back to the village so we can certify you haven't gone rogue. Other than that, a yearly hawk to this office is appreciated, but not mandatory. Do you have an estimation of how long you'll be gone?”

“Anywhere between six months and three years, as of our current plans,” Sakura says.

 

The chūnin makes a face. The village will lose two extremely valuable assets for an extended period of time and he's the one who has to tell the Hokage that. Sakura feels for him, but it is what it is. They decided early on they wouldn't be able to leave the way they wanted to if they went directly to Naruto to get their leave papers. This is the best they can do for themselves, and for once, they both decided they would be selfish. Their relationship before the village. And they need to take that time for themselves.

 

“Noted. You are now both relieved from duty. Enjoy your leave.”

 

Shikamaru rises first, putting the bag on, and leaves the office once Sakura has done the same. Hand in hand again, they walk up to the gates and show their papers to the guards. No comment is made on who they are and what they're doing, but as soon as they're on the road outside of the village, they can hear the whispers of the guards behind them.

 

“Do you want to take to the trees?” Shikamaru asks.

“Until we reach the countryside, then we should just walk to enjoy the view.”

 

They jump on the nearest branch and use the momentum to start running. From branch to branch, the wind singing around them as they leave the village behind without looking back. The night is far away, summer evenings especially long in the Land of Fire. The sky is frozen in a perpetual monochrome of ochres and pinks. The trees look like they're on fire.

After a couple of hours of running, they stop on a huge white birch and climb until they're on the highest branches, well over the rest of the canopy. The view is incredible, an ocean of trees so wide they can't see the end of it, the burning sky still blazing while the night comes.

Sakura opens her pack and takes out the herb bread she made in the morning. She breaks it in half and gives the other piece to Shikamaru, who trades it with slices of dry, cured ham. She takes out a handful of ripe plums, some dried apple slices, and Shikamaru adds a few dozens cherry tomatoes.

They eat in silence, watching the sun finally disappear and the orange skin turn purple, then indigo. They drink tea from the canister, and pack the leftovers as the first stars appear in the night sky.

 

“Should we keep going for a while, or sleep here?”

Shikamaru smiles, content. “I'm partial to running with the stars above my head.”

“Then let's do that.”

He kisses her temple. “I'm happy, my love,” he offers like a secret to the shell of her ear.

“So am I,” she offers in return, pulling him into an embrace.

 

They rise as one, in tune with each other, and begin running again. Shikamaru was right, the stars are plenty and the moon is round, giving off well enough light to allow them to run. They go on for a few hours more, then silently agree to stop when they find a clearing.

Shikamaru makes quick work of a few traps around the clearing while Sakura ties ninja wire near the ground, between the surrounding trees. They add a seal to the ground where they'll sleep, that should wake them up if anything comes too close to it. Then they open their storage scrolls and unseal sleeping bags and pillows.

With the stars above them watchful, they curl around each other and fall asleep to murmured words of love and praise and promises they know they'll keep.

 

 

Three days into their journey, they reach the mountain range used as a natural border between the Land of Earth and the Land of Fire. The journey would still be a couple of hours before they would be into the mountains proper, but they're about at their feet. They look around for some time before finding the perfect spot.

From the mountain flows a river of pure water, still cold from the eternal snow they can see at the top of the peaks. It's large enough that they need to cross it with water walking, and a few metres deep in the middle. Fat fish are going down the current, plentiful, and they even find some fresh water shrimps.

The trees are less dense than in the heart of the Land of Fire, but they're still in their home country and the forest around them is large enough to hide them. Shinobi paranoia is an old friend, so they install more permanent traps than they would if they were camping. Shikamaru engraves some genjutsu seals on the trees surrounding the riverbank, leaving them about fifty square metres of protected ground. That should hide them from anyone not actively looking for them.

With their bags abandoned near the water, they get to work. Shikamaru takes the two storage scrolls they haven't touched yet, and unseals the tools they brought. Meanwhile, Sakura leaves the protected grounds behind and chooses a large tree that she breaks at the base with a precise punch. It falls down, and she sits astride the trunk.

Covering her hand in chakra, she moulds it into a blade, about the length of her shin. Sakura jumps on her feet, on top of the trunk, and takes a focusing breath. Then she starts cutting. Her chakra slides into the wood like butter and she has to harness her concentration to keep her arm unwavering and get a straight cut. She doesn't look up when she hears Shikamaru coming and finishes her cut. A plank falls down.

 

“I'm getting saplings, you'll be ok on your own?”

She nods. “It's a bit harder than I expected, because the blade is too efficient so I have to focus more on controlling my arm than the actual blade itself. I'll make as many as I can. Come and get me if you need any help bringing it back.”

 

Shikamaru kisses her cheek and disappears into the trees. She takes a deep breath and goes back to her trunk. After a while, she has to wipe the stress sweat from her brow, but she's getting the hang of it. They made sure to start early in the morning, so they have all day to get the base resources they'll need.

Time passes without her noticing, until her stomach begins to hurt and she realizes how high the sun is in the sky. Shikamaru isn't back yet, but she can get started on lunch while she waits for him. Brushing the wood chips off of her loose jōnin clothing, she bends down and grabs the fifteen planks she's made, easily lifting them up until she can rest them on her head.

With a thankful thought for Tsunade and her stupidly useful strength, she goes back to the protected grounds. She stops just before the invisible barrier of chakra seals and stacks the heavy planks on the ground in a neat pile. Sakura smiles proudly at the work Shikamaru already did.

The ground is even and level, small branches sticking at regular intervals, a string tied between each. The boxes of tools they'll need for the first construction step are gathered near the square marked by the strings. He even made a wooden frame with criss-crossed strings in the middle and put slices of fresh vegetables to dry on top.

Sakura scans the riverbank until she finds a couple of large, flat stones. She brings them back to the cleared bank and spits a katon to dry them. She digs a hole and shoves two stones on the sides and a third on she lays flat on top. With a few dry leaves, some sticks and dry wood, she starts a fire. Wrapped potatoes are thrown into the flames and fresh vegetables laid on the flat stone.

A vibration in the air, a feeling from the chakra seals, and she hides a smile while stirring the fire. Shikamaru sits down behind her, his legs on either side of her own, arms wrapped around her middle. He rests his chin on her shoulder and watches the flame licking the flat stone, the vegetables sizzling on top.

 

“We're crazy, aren't we?” he asks her, his voice vibrating from his torso to her back.

“Completely mad, darling.”

“I wouldn't trade the crazy for anything in the world.”

“Me neither, love. Me neither.”

 

In the next days, they use the planks to build an elevated floor, and a few steps to reach it. They sleep on it, eyes lost in the stars, kept warm by the distance from the ground. They use tung oil to protect the wood, because some of the region's trees produce the fruits they'll need to make more if they ever run out. Sakura cuts down more planks and a few support pieces, and they build a frame around the floor, until they can lay the support pieces horizontally on top of it.

 

 

A month after their arrival, they have four walls and a roof over their head. The house is small, with only two rooms, but it connects to the trees where they've built a dozen platforms. Rows upon rows of vegetables and small game meat are drying on the platforms, and Shikamaru ploughed a plot of land to plant a garden with the seeds they brought with them.

They don't have time to be bored, wanting to finish everything before the winter. They find a way to build an impermeable container to store rain water, and get to fishing once the first dry vegetables are done so they can salt the fish and leave them on the frames.

Furniture is a challenge they tackle with a good amount of jokes at their own expense. It takes them a few tries to get the low table flat, and the shelves stable on the walls. They brought their futon with them, and most of what they build is in the traditional style, close to the ground and sturdy.

Central heating is too much for their limited skills, so they hang a water pouch outside and let it warm up with the sun while the weather is still merciful. For the winter, they've build a twin to the water container, simply bigger, and laid a cloth at the bottom on top of the impermeable oils they've used. It will do as a tub, and a good katon should help with the water.

As Slowdays ends, Sakura stops helping with the work. In the early days of Allnights, she takes to staying inside, weaving baskets with a technique she learned from the civilian district she grew up in. They'll carry the snow in it to melt it if they ever run out of water. She's getting more and more tired, and the days are even shorter now, so Shikamaru doesn't spend much time outside.

The house is done, and all the platforms are all covered in case it snows, to protect the food they stored the last three months. He goes out to take care of the garden, the few winter vegetables growing steadily. Instead, Shikamaru stays inside, sketching mundane things from their everyday life while Sakura reads.

 

“Do you ever want to go back?” she asks softly, in the last days of Allnights.

“I don't know.”

Sakura worries her lip. “Me neither. I never thought I'd like it that much. I thought it would just be for a little while, to get away from everything. But now...”

 

Shikamaru rolls on the futon until his face rests on Sakura's chest, looking at her from beneath her chin. She leaves the book by her side and cards her fingers through his hair. It's very long, now, and his ponytail doesn't stay up anymore, so he's taken to braiding it when he goes outside. In bed, he lets it flow around his shoulders, and Sakura caresses the silky locks framing his thoughtful face.

 

“It's addictive, isn't it? No responsibilities. No pressure. We get to choose what's important, and what isn't.”

“I like knowing you're always there, that I won't ever risk you on a mission or wait for you late at night because you've been working overtime.” Sakura closes her eyes, the back of her head thumping against the wall behind her. “I feel so good, here. I can't remember the last time I was this rested.”

“I can't remember the last time I _looked_ this rested,” Shikamaru breathes a laugh, kissing Sakura's clavicle. “We'll figure it out after the winter, alright?”

“Alright. Would you fetch the ointment, please?”

 

He nods, rising up on his elbows and kissing the tip of her nose, then the seal on her forehead. She giggles, scrunching up her face against the tickles while Shikamaru smoothly gets on his feet. He grabs the nutshell in which he poured the cream once he was done making it, the recipe an old Nara classic.

Sakura takes off her shirt, bending forward a bit while Shikamaru crawls behind her. He warms his hands a bit before slowly massaging the herbs cream on her lower back. She sighs in relief, closing her eyes to focus on the feeling of his hands on her.

She's relaxed, humming softly, on the verge of falling asleep when she feels a diffuse pain in her lower body, so blurry she couldn't say if it came from her legs or stomach or back. She sends a small pulse of chakra through her pathways, scanning her body. She shudders.

 

“Sakura? Am I hurting you?”

“I think it's happening.”

 

Shikamaru takes a sharp breath, his hands dropping from her back. He comes to face her, wiping his palms on his pants.

 

“I thought you said Firstsnow.”

“Surprise?”

 

He laughs, low and deep, before taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently.

 

“Alright, troublesome wife. Surprise it is.”

 

He gets up, offering her his hand. They take the few steps leading to their wooden tub, he helps her inside before going outside. It snowed the night before, but the wind is quiet now and he can see clearly. It's a beautiful day.

He breaks the thin ice in the water container, before realizing the problem. With a sigh, because of course that would happen right now, he goes back inside.

 

“Love, I need your help.”

She snorts. “The ice stuck it on the ground, didn't it?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, help me back up,” she laughs.

 

With his arm to stabilize her, she walks easily outside. With a groan, she grabs the side of the container and breaks it apart from the ground. She does her best to hurry it inside, knowing she won't be up for long.

 

“You'll manage, now?”

Shikamaru pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please stop making fun of me. This is embarrassing enough as it is.”

“I'm doing all the work in this house,” she sighs dramatically, before going back into the tub.

 

Shikamaru throws his gloves in her face, before locking his hands in a katon and warming the water in the container to an acceptable temperature. Then he lifts it with difficulty, emptying everything into the tub. Sakura squeals but relaxes soon into the water.

 

“Do you want things to eat?”

“Oh, yeah, that's a good idea. Do we have any candied fruits left? And any kind of substantial snack you can make will be useful. Something that'll give me energy.”

“Sushi? I can cook some rice and there's the salmon we put on the platform two days ago.”

Sakura nods, but her peaceful face twists itself into a painful grimace. “Ok, get a move on, genius. It's starting.”

 

Shikamaru swallows, his eyes too wide, and Sakura is brought back to the war, to those quadrants where nothing was certain except the drying blood under her fingernails and the rotting flesh she had to gouge out of soldiers' wounds. To the uncertainty of tomorrow and the safety of now, stolen touches from the people you hold close to yourself and whispers of reassurances, lies as ugly as the grime on their tired faces.

 

“It's gonna be alright,” she lies, as convincing as she can be, and miraculously Shikamaru snaps out of it, nodding before leaving the house to get the salmon.

 

Sakura counts the seconds since he left and screams when the first wave of pain erupts from her lower stomach. Taken by surprise, by how sharp it is, how strong and lingering the pain is, how it settles into her flesh to rip her apart from the inside.

Shallow breaths and the feeling of the wood on her skin bring her back to the present, to this house they built with their own hands, to the comfort of knowing her own body. She sends a sweep of chakra through her stomach, until she finds the clenching muscles. She uses the chakra to convince her nerves to calm down. She could switch them off, but doing so wouldn't allow her to know how far she is and she would have a harder time pushing. So she simply takes the edge of the pain, until it becomes almost manageable.

She knows that it won't be the same in a few hours, when her body begins to truly tire, and that no amount of numbed nerves will get her through this without hurting. She grits her teeth. She's prepared for it. There's no way she survived a war to let this get to her. Now a challenge, on the other hand, she knows how to deal with.

 

“Can I do anything for you? Or do you want me to make the food first?” Shikamaru says as he opens the door.

“No, I'm fine, love. Make the food, I'm going to need it.”

 

He nods, sending her a soft smile. Kneeling before their low table, he puts down the fish to unfreeze while he starts a fire in the hearth. They put it in the second room, to control the damage if anything were to happen, but they've been careful and the fire never got out of control. He lines up a few boiling stones in the hearth before grabbing a basket Sakura weaved a long time ago.

It's a close weave, a special technique she learned from a civilian clan, and the special pattern manages to stop liquid from slipping through. A quick trip outside and he gathers snow inside, since most of their water went into filling the tub for Sakura. With the heat from the fire, it should melt pretty quickly, so he hooks the basket to the cured guts tied like a net, over the fire but out of reach of the flames.

He can hear Sakura groan, but he swallows his worry and instead drops a few pieces of coal in the fire to make the heat rise quicker. He needs to trust that everything will go well. The hundreds of simulations he ran in his head at night, with Sakura asleep next to him, during all those months they spent alone in the forest should make him feel better.

He's prepared for every eventually, any problem that could arise. She taught him anatomy and the theory behind labour, thorough enough that she assured him he has the same amount of knowledge a midwife has, minus the hands-on experience. That doesn't mean he isn't making a conscious effort to stay calm. He's worried, that he won't be enough, that Sakura will be in danger, that their child isn't healthy.

 

“Shikamaru!”

 

He jumps on his feet, running to Sakura's side. Her eyes are scrunched up, her lips pulled into a grimace. He gently touches the back of her hand, grasping hard on the edge of the tub, and she immediately lets go to grab his hand instead.

 

“H-help me,” she gasps, “help me up. Your arms under my arms, take me off the ground for a bit.”

 

Kneeling behind her, he wraps his arms around her chest, underneath her armpits, and lifts her up until her back rests on his chest. She releases a relieved groan, her head resting back on his shoulder. He kisses her jaw, her neck, happy to be a part of this, to take some of the weight from her even if it's only physically.

A few hours into it, after she's eaten, he takes off his clothes and goes into the tub with her. It's easier to lift her up when she needs help from gravity, and it's more comfortable when she wants to nests in his arms, legs open in front of her. He feels so much closer to her, legs open as well to welcome her, sensing whenever she's about to tense up.

 

“Shika, Shika, love,” she whispers like a prayer, eyes close, rocking against him. She tenses up so much her back arches and with a groan, she bends forward. Her arms rest on the edge of the tub, her face hidden against her own skin. She slams her hand against the wood, swearing, and as her breathing grows more laboured, she reaches between her legs.

 

Shikamaru swallows hard, mouth dry and eyes open wide, his heart racing in his chest. Then Sakura slumps back, eventually falling into his open embrace, and he hears it. He barely dares looking over Sakura's shoulder, where her arms are nested against her chest. But the noise comes again, clearer, and he _has_ to look, dizzy and almost nauseous with nervousness.

 

“Say hello, my love,” she smiles, her hand coming off to reveal a tiny face pressed against her breast. “Hello”, he says dumbly, getting a tired laugh out of Sakura.

“Would you like to hold your son?”

Shikamaru blinks really hard, trying to contain the tears. “Come on, no, I was supposed to be so suave and cool. Look at me, I'm pathetic,” he says, giving up the fight against the sob that rips itself from his chest.

“Don't talk like that about the father of my child,” she grins. “I promise, you're cool enough for me.”

 

He gently takes the newborn from her arms, marvelling at how light he is, but stops abruptly moving when Sakura whines and makes a horrible face.

 

“Sakura? What's going on, is everything alright?”

“Please stop moving,” she says in a rush. “Oooh kami this is the weirdest thing I've ever felt in my life.”

With a growing sense of dread, Shikamaru looks down at the cord still linking the baby to his mother. “Oh.”

“Would you terribly mind giving me back our baby and finding something to cut the cord?” she says, her tone much more polite than he's ever heard and that's his queue to know she's freaking out.

“We are terrible at this,” he states, barely containing the hysterical laughter that wants to bubble out of him.

“Less talking. More cutting.”

 

Eventually, the tub is emptied and both Sakura and the baby are clean. Shikamaru fills a bowl full of vegetables crackers they dried on the platforms and joins them on the futon. He puts down the food and lays next to Sakura with a weary sigh. He's suddenly exhausted.

 

“The adrenaline finally wore off, uh?” she says. “Imagine how _I'm_ feeling right now.”

 

The baby makes a little happy noise, and both of them focus on his tiny form, laid out on Sakura's chest.

 

“Does he have a name?” Shikamaru asks, with a sort of wonder colouring his tone, something cautious and hopeful that makes Sakura's chest burst with love.

“I don't know. I'm not sure. Too many choices, I'm tired.”

Shikamaru raises his head, locking eyes with her. “You remember why we left?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Don't you think we have the perfect name, then? It's not too many choices, Sakura. It's just one.”

“I love you so much, Shikamaru,” she says, face soft but eyes fierce with the intensity she wants to tattoo on her words.

“I love you, always.” He answers without looking away, deadly serious like she's only seen him be a few times in their life. She nods, then, before giving him the baby. He tucks him in his arms and Sakura curls around them, resting her head on Shikamaru's shoulder.

“Welcome to the world, Sentaku.”

 

The boy lets out a soft sigh, his tiny nose brushing against Sakura's skin. Shikamaru feels a little like dying of happiness, and he's ok with that.

 

Freezing and Firstnow pass so fast neither realize it, until the snow begins to melt and one day they wake up to birds singing and the first morning of Awakening. Sentaku has lost the redness and fuzzy hair of a newborn, and he's firmly settling in the olive skin of the Nara and pink hair of the Haruno.

With the days softening, they can finally start taking care of the garden again, the few winter vegetables turning into plenty of colourful ones. The fish are coming down from the mountain again, ready for laying season, so they take great care to leave alone any carrying female. Now comfortably integrated into their little corner of the forest, they experiment with food, they carve little toys out of dry wood for Sentaku.

Sakura's birthday is on the first day of Rainsbloom, and the sky pours out in celebration. They go outside, Sentaku wrapped up against Shikamaru's chest with a tattered obi, and they listen to his bell laughter when a drop of rain falls on his cheek. With Shikamaru's birthday, they celebrate their first year in the forest with pastries cooked in an oven they've finally figured out how to build.

Shikamaru lets his hair grow more and more, until he has to ask Sakura to braid it for him, then teach him how to do it. It becomes a habit of his, to make and unmake the braid whenever he's trying to figure out a problem. Their new project is to extend the house with a small room that would serve as an inner garden in winter, protected from the cold to give them more vegetables when food is harder to get by.

By winter, his hair reaches below the middle of his back. Sentaku plays with it whenever Shikamaru is trying to get him to nap, and that usually soothes him enough to fall asleep. Sakura marvels at seeing her pink hair reflected on someone else, something she has never been lucky enough to see. She has no parents, no clan, no family. Her hair made her stand out, and now it speaks to her of belonging, of home.

 

“Did you get enough salt out of the coltsfoot?”

Sakura nods. “I filled a bowl, the one you made during the flood? That should last us the winter.”

“Alright, I'll go and check the racks. How much flour do we have left?”

With a grimace, Sakura points to the corner of the room. “About what you see here.”

“Shit, that's not going to be enough.”

“I know,” she sighs. “But the chestnuts...”

“Yeah, I know, the parasites. Damn, I wish there was wheat around here.”

“It's ok, we'll do without the bread this time, yeah?”

Shikamaru pulls her close and kisses her jaw. “Yeah, there are worst things than not eating bread.”

“Tocha!”

 

They almost break their neck looking down at Sentaku, tugging Shikamaru's pants leg.

 

“Did he just—”

“I think he did.”

Sakura stares at Shikamaru, deadpan. “You just _had_ to make a genius child, didn't you?”

“Tocha!”

Shikamaru laughs. “Yes, Sen-chan?”

 

Sentaku points to the half loaf of bread on the low table. Sakura and Shikamaru share a look and their laughter takes them by surprise.

 

“A genius,” Sakura wheezes. “A-a freaking genius.”

“Quiet,” Shikamaru breathes through his laugh.

 

They say that children grow up too fast. In the woods, they find that time doesn't want to cooperate. With the numerous projects to make the winters easier to go through, the hikes they go on now that Sentaku walks and talks like a child twice his age, the months go by without either of them realizing.

A very harsh quadrant of Freezing sees a dangerous amount of snow covering the woods in white. It falls, and it falls, day after day, without stopping, until they weight of it becomes so much the roof of their house breaks down. Through the panic, they have to both calm Sentaku down and try to limit the damage, moving everything into their garden room to protect all they can.

Through a relentless blizzard, Sakura cuts down a few trees to get the planks they'll need, and they mount the new roof as the night brings them dangerously close to hypothermia. When they can finally go back inside, after shovelling all the snow out of the house, Sentaku is the one to start a fire with the limited katon they taught him in fall.

That same winter, as Sentaku's birthday comes up, Shikamaru shows him the shadow technique for the first time. He explains where it originitated from and why he's so connected to them. Sentaku, being the brilliant child that he is, asks why he never saw that shadow clan of the thousand deer, the one his father talks about freely.

And that's when Sakura and Shikamaru realize that they just celebrated Sentaku's sixth birthday, which means they left Konoha almost seven years ago. And not once did they even send a hawk, let alone travel back for the five-year check up.

 

“Sakura.”

She swallows. “I think we've gone rogue, love.”

“Well, shit.”

 

Sentaku looks between the two of them, and back down at the shifting shadows on the ground. He raises his small hands in front of him, examining his palms like fascinating little bugs.

 

“I don't want to go away,” he whispers, clenching his little fists in front of his face.

“We're not going away, Sen-chan.” But as he says it, Shikamaru looks at Sakura, an anxious feeling squeezing his throat. Because the truth is... they don't really want to go back either. And that? That was never part of the plan.

 

The next few days are torture. They try to act normal for Sentaku's sake, but he's too smart to buy it and they end up doing it entirely for their own sake. It's as if the last seven years never happened, all that happiness gone, and replaced by the anxiety and stress from post-war Konoha. The feelings of guilt, of abandoning their friends and clan, it's all piling up over months and months of the best life they've ever lived.

 

“They probably declared us nukenin already.”

“Don't you think Naruto, at least, would have tried to find us?” Sakura massages her temples. “It's not like we tried to hide our tracks, or went very far. The journey took us, what, two days?”

“Three days, I think,” Shikamaru sighs. “It _is_ strange that we didn't see anyone when the five years ended.”

 

It's eating at them from the inside, and in the end they've always been too brave for their own good, too stupidly brave to not dare face their demons and spit in their face. So they pack the bags they haven't touched since arriving to the riverbank, they place an extra layer of seals and traps around their house, they each take one of Sentaku's hands and they start walking.

They haven't taught him how to run using chakra, but he knows how to tree-walk, so the walk is only a day longer than it would have taken them by themselves. They don't rush, because they don't want to scare Sentaku, but they don't stop to explain every little thing to him either like they usually do, which is as good an admission in his mind that his parents aren't fine.

On the fourth day, they find the mountain range behind which Konoha stands, hidden in the leaves of the many trees surrounding it and the seals the Senju-Uzumaki Alliance provided to help it keep it as concealed as a major village can be. Sakura drops Sentaku's hand and reaches to get a branch out of the way, allowing them passage and a clear view over the vast plain of the village.

 

“No.”

 

She turns around, both hands on her hips, face relaxed. “No,” she repeats, voice dead.

Without a word, Shikamaru drops to his knees.

Sentaku shakes off the limp hand of his father and takes a few hesitant steps forward, closer to the edge of the cliff. With a weight in his chest he's never felt before, a shortness of breath he can't explain, Sentaku looks at Konoha for the first time.

Behind him, Sakura lets out an earth-shattering scream.

 _It's weird_ , Sentaku thinks, _I didn't know cooked meat could smell this bad_.

 

They don't get any closer. Shikamaru can see it, in the way Sakura's body curves against him, in the way she looks moments away from clawing her way through the forest and into the ruins. He'll die before he lets her approach what's left of Konoha. Instead, he uses the only thing that will keep her away from the carnage. So he picks Sentaku up, almost shoves him into Sakura's arms, and drags her away from the cliff.

He knows he's running on adrenaline and rationality, and that's not going to keep him going long. That's— no, he's not going to think about what he just saw. He's going to get his family out of here, and then he'll let himself collapse. Right now, he has to count on the shock to help him, because Sakura overpowers him any day and if she wakes up enough to realize that, he'll end up with a punch to the face and a running wife.

So he walks, and he walks, deep into the forest they just walked out off. He walks, Sakura's arm limp in his hand, Sentaku strangely silent in her arms. He walks, until the sun goes down and the forest becomes dark, until he's sure Sakura is as tired as he is and won't run away if he lets her go.

He drops her wrist, his back against a tree, and slides down to the ground. He hides his face between his knees, his fingers pulling on his hair. Quietly, his tears cold on his cheeks, he breaks down.

 

“Shikamaru.”

“No.”

“ _Shikamaru_.”

 

She cries out when a sharp pain burns her cheek. With a gasping breath, she grabs the kunai embedded in the tree behind her, where it just cut her cheek. Her eyes darken, and she rips it out with gritted teeth. Shikamaru isn't watching her, but he's furious, she can see it, his hand still stretched in front of his after the throw. She slams the kunai into the earth, and jumps on her feet.

 

“We have to go back! We don't even know what happened, why—” she gulps. “We owe it to them, Shikamaru. We weren't there.”

“No.” He gets up as well, staring her down. “We are _not_ going there. We had the right to our leave, hell, we had the right to ten more years of leave if we wanted, we just had to check in. Our only fault here is to have forgotten the date. We are _not_ going to start blaming ourselves for this.”

“How can you say that? How can you not want to know? We don't even know who died, if any of our friends survived!”

“Do you realize what you're saying? Don't you think I want to know what happened to my clan? But we couldn't know if there was any danger left, and Sentaku is with us?”

“I'm sorry? Are you accusing me of putting him in danger?”

 

The sharp sound of the slap cuts open the cold night air. Sakura's head is thrown to the right, the burning pain spreading through her cheek. She licks her lower lip, where a cut just appeared. A slap. Not a punch. A slap, like you would give a disobedient girl. She feels the rage flare in her chest.

Her hands are shaking, and so are Shikamaru's. They're practically headbutting, close enough to feel the anger in each other's breath. With a single thought, they move at the same time. She lashes, her right heel impacting Shikamaru's solar plexus. He falls down with a grunt, but she wants to this to end no matter what it takes. She straddles his chest and punches him square in the jaw.

He blocks her second punch, grabbing her forearm and pulling violently. Sakura falls onto her side and Shikamaru reverses their positions, his knee pressing against her chest, cutting her air supply.

Her eyes fill with tears of pain and she focuses on her palm, lighting it up with blue chakra. With a thought, it solidifies into a blade. She moves her arm in a quick arc and a deep cut starts bleeding on Shikamaru's jaw. He jumps in surprise and pain, moaning, and she uses it to arch her back, throwing him over her head and making him crash behind her.

He rolls once before crouching, blood flowing freely down his neck and into his clothes. Crouching as well, Sakura faces him, breath short. She can feel the bruise forming on her cheek where his hit did more damage than he probably thinks it did. Her lip hurts. The adrenaline in her veins is scorching, the taste in her mouth, bitter. She can't think clearly.

 

“STOP!”

 

Shikamaru jumps so hard he falls back into a sitting position. They both turn around, dread creeping underneath their skin.

Sentaku is crying.

 

“Why are you fighting? Please, st—stop!”

 

Sakura swallows down bile, shame and guilt burning her cheeks more than any punch ever could.

 

“H-hey, love, I'm so sorry,” she says softly. “We didn't mean to fight, Kichō. We...”

“You know Konoha used to be our home. We're both very sad about what happened to it, and we lashed out at each other,” Shikamaru says, locking eyes with Sentaku. “Neither of us truly wanted to fight, love. Kācchan told you about adrenaline, yeah? Well, it was that, and a lot of sadness.”

“But you said we need to talk when we don't feel good. Why didn't you talk instead?” Sentaku is sobbing, his cheeks pink with emotions. He wipes his nose on his sleeve, and Sakura hates herself more than she's ever before.

“I'm sorry, Sen-chan. I promise you, we don't really want to fight. We acted in a very stupid way, and you shouldn't have had to see us grieve. I _promise_ you, Tō-san and I love each other so much, okay?”

 

Immediately, Shikamaru grabs her hand, pulling her close. She tenses, the fight not completely out of her, but he puts his thumb on the pressure point in her palm and she relaxes instantly. She hates the feeling of it, weak muscles not responding to her brain, but right now she'd punch her own body in the face if it meant accepting his touch to show Sentaku they're not lying.

Instead, she does punch Inner right on the nose when she rears her ugly face to taunt her into fighting Shikamaru again, and if that's her mind's way of telling her to take a stand, it works, because she feels more grounded already. She gets herself even closer to Shikamaru, and wraps her arms around his waist from behind, pressed against his back, her chin on his shoulder.

 

“Would you like to come here, please? We're not going to fight anymore, but we'd like to check in on you and give you a hug, if you give us permission.”

 

Sentaku snorts back a sob, his little shoulders scrunched up in defence, before nodding quickly. He runs into Shikamaru's arms, who pulls him into a hug. Sakura's hands find Sentaku's pink hair, carefully caressing the strands.

 

“I'm sorry about what happened to the village,” the boy says. “I would've liked to see it.”

 

Shikamaru can't stop the keening sound that comes out of his throat at that. Sakura squeezes her arms tighter, her hands leaving Sentaku's hair to press against Shikamaru's chest. She can feel his heartbeat going wild under her palm, so she sends a wave of soothing medical chakra through his body, hoping to relieve some of his pain. But she's feeling the same one, and that grief isn't going away any time soon.

 

“It's ok, Tō-san,” Sentaku whispers. “You can cry now.”

 

He shakes between Sakura's hands, and she's trembling too, tremors going through their body in relentless waves. Sentaku kisses Shikamaru's chin, still hidden in his embrace.

What can they do but cry?

 

The house is the same as they left it. It snowed lightly during the night, it appears, from the remaining patches of white on the grass, but it was mild enough that they didn't even feel it where they spent the night. Sakura and Shikamaru are both exhausted, their grief pulsing inside their head like a migraine.

Sentaku sits them down in front of the fire, and brings the mochi they made as a family activity right before leaving. They let him do it, because this is as much part of his healing as it is theirs. Their apology was accepted, and he doesn't seem to hold a grudge, but they can't just put it behind them. It will leave scars on Sentaku's memories, and they need to prove to him that they're trustworthy.

They diligently eat their sweets while Sentaku boils water and serves them a jasmine and mint infusion. They drink slowly, and they don't talk. They'll have to, once they've reassured their son, because they did attack each other to the point of drawing blood.

 

“Kācchan, can we go to bed?”

She sends him a surprised look. “It's the middle of the morning.”

“Please?”

“Yes, of course, love. Come on, let's go.”

 

She sends a look to Shikamaru, but they don't comment and instead follow Sentaku to bed. Their head barely touched the futon and they're already asleep.

Sakura wakes up at night. The moon is filtering underneath the door and carves shadows on the sleeping faces besides her.

Something is wrong.

 

“Shikamaru, wake up.” She doesn't touch him, a habit kept from the months following the end of the war, when anything could trigger an episode or a panic attack. But her voice is firm, clear, like she's calling him from another room. His eyes open instantly.

“What's going on?”

“Someone breached the seals.”

He sits up in a rush. “Shit. Where are they coming from?”

“The other side of the river.”

Shikamaru looks at her. “The mountains...”

“Yes. I think it's Iwa.”

 

Their heart are beating too fast, but a strange, numbing calm spreads through their body. They prepared for this, the last seven years spent protecting their land in case anyone tried to attack them. They don't know if that's what happening, but with what they saw of Konoha, there's no way they're risking it.

 

“Sentaku, wake up.” Shikamaru caresses his cheek, flicking his nose, until the boy opens tired eyes.

“Tō-san?”

“Love, I need you to focus, please. Can you do that?”

Sentaku sits up slowly. “Y-yes, what's going on?”

“We might be under attack, Sen-chan. It's possible that Kācchan and I will have to fight.”

“What?” his wide eyes break Sakura's heart.

“It's also possible they're not here to cause any trouble, but we can't be sure. Do you remember how to hide your chakra?”

Sentaku scrunches his nose and it's like a switch, the dizzying sensation of seeing someone but not _seeing_ them because you can't feel them. “Good, you're doing great.”

“Kācchan, I don't want to hide. I want to fight with you.”

“You're not going to fight.” She raises a finger when she sees he's about to protest. “We don't know how many of them are coming, and we are not putting you in danger. But you're coming with us. We'll protect you, but you're not getting out of our sight.”

Shikamaru nods. “We can protect you much better if we can see you than if you're hidden somewhere and they find you when we're not here to stop them.”

 

Sentaku accepts with a pout, and Shikamaru and Sakura grab their backpacks. It's strange, to take out clothes they haven't worn in years. Why would they need to, when their life revolved around gardening and building a home in tune with the forest? And now here they are, putting on shin guards and jōnin vests, open shoes with a hardened sole.

Finally, they're staring at the Konoha hitai-ate, twin plates of steel on worn dark blue fabric. Putting them on tastes like guilt and nausea, of what could have been and will never be. They can't look at each other once they're down, so instead they leave the room and the bitter regrets behind, and join Sentaku in the main room. They have a home to defend, they'll deal with the guilt later.

Shikamaru does hand a kunai to Sentaku just as they're leaving their home, just in case, and the boy slips it into a mostly empty weapon pouch without a word. Sakura hopes it's not the last time they'll see this house, this land they've lived on for so long. That's why they're heading straight for the intruders instead of letting them come to the house. It might save it in the end.

The seals that were activated are on the edge of the perimeter they established upon arriving at the border. It's a good three hours of walking before Sakura feels her skin crawl, the sense of foreign chakra brushing against her fūinjutsu. She brushes against Shikamaru's forearm and signs a warning once he's looking at her. He nods and takes a fighting stance in front of Sentaku.

The boy takes his kunai, low and pointing forward in a defence position like they taught him. With a proud warmth spreading in her chest, Sakura steps in front of her family. She's the most likely to survive a frontal assault. It feels good to know she can be a mountain, a wall of protection for those she holds dearest.

Finally, from behind the trees, the first silhouette appears. Sakura can feel some of the tension leaving her body, replaced by a cold, steady knowledge that she knows what to do. She won't let anything happen to Sentaku. And maybe they'll get answers.

She spots the Iwa hitai-ate first, but not the uniform. The six shinobi are all wearing matching bodysuits, dark grey with black and lighter grey shapes dyed on the fabric. There's a hood attached to the suits, looming over faces hidden by a long piece of cloth wrapped around their nose and only leaving the eyes on display. She's never seen anyone dressed like that before, and it's making her uncomfortable.

 

“Identify yourselves!” the leader shouts, weapons drawn but hands low enough to appear unthreatening.

“Haruno Sakura, Konoha Shinobi Force. Head of the Medic Corps.” With her kunai, she gestures to the pass hanging from her hip, with her face and informations printed neatly.

“Haruno Shikamaru, Konoha Shinobi Force, Nanadaime's Councillor,” Shikamaru says, then stepping in front of Sentaku to shield him just in case. “And Haruno Sentaku, our son.”

“Throw me your passes. This is bullshit.”

 

Without being prompted, Sentaku grabs the two documents and throw them at the leader while his parents keep their fighting stance. The man takes a good look at the papers, before handing them to his squadmates, who all inspect them in turn. There are murmurs, whispers of disbelief, but Sakura knows it'll check out. All the passes are keyed to a chakra lock specific to Administration papers. There is no mistaking it for fakes.

Finally, the passes are back into the leader's hands, who throws them back to Sentaku. Then he sheaths his katana, and his squadmates take the cue to put their weapons back in their pouches. Weary, Shikamaru and Sakura follow their lead, still protectively hiding Sentaku behind them.

 

“Did you seriously hide in the forest all this time? Is that why no one could find you?”

“What— people were looking for us?” Sakura blinks, confusion painted on her face.

Shikamaru frowns. “We just got back from Konoha. Or what's left of it. We don't know what happened. Do you have an explanation for us?”

“Shit, you really don't know. Shit.”

 

The five shinobi behind him all look something between guilty and pitying. That really doesn't bode well for the situation.

 

“Is there somewhere you can take us, where we can talk? We're not safe out there. You're lucky we're the one who found you, we're not the only ones patrolling the mountains but we sure are the nicest.”

 

Shikamaru and Sakura exchange a look. This is weighting how much they can trust the Iwa shinobi with their home, and how much they want answers. Sakura mouths _We can take them_ and Shikamaru nods imperceptibly.

 

“Follow me,” he says, turning around while Sakura lifts Sentaku and puts him on her hip. The leader joins them, walking side by side with the three of them while his squad falls into formation around them. They get to the house faster than they came from it, unsurprising given that Sentaku isn't running on his own.

“This is where you've been living?”

“Damn, you did a fine job,” another shinobi says, whistling under their breath.

 

Sentaku wiggles out of Sakura's arms and almost drops to the floor, righting himself up without batting an eye.

 

“Do you want to see my room?” he asks, grinning now that he's seen there isn't going to be a fight. Sakura's heart misses a beat, realizing that he never knew anyone besides Shikamaru and her, and he's still picking up social cues that make him act like other children.

“Let's give them some time to settle first, Sen-chan.”

 

Once everyone is sitting around the low table, the leader takes out his hood and mask, soon followed by his entire squad. Sakura has a discreet look around but can't find any familiar features.

 

“My name is Koishi. With the blue eyes is Hōseki, the twins are Tankō and Kōseki and the two women are Kōmyaku and Ganseki. We're Iwa's Tracking Patrol.”

Shikamaru frowns. “Tracking patrol?”

Koishi sighs. “The Godaime implemented it at the end of the Fifth Shinobi War.”

“Godai- what about Kuro— no wait, did you say Fifth War?”

 

Her heart is beating in her ears, too loud for her to make out what Shikamaru is saying. Given his blank expression, the shock is probably just as hard for him as it is for her.

 

“Kurotsuchi-sama was assassinated in the first month of the war. She and her personal guard were attacked by a squadron of Konoha shinobi and they didn't make it. The Fifth Shinobi War started six years ago, when Konoha broke all treaties with Iwa, Kumo and Kiri.”

“That can't be true.”

Koishi sends them a cold look. “The Nanadaime Hokage was the most incompetent leader a country ever had. The only thing that made his dictatorship bearable was your council. When you both left Konoha, he remained surrounded by power-hungry higher ups who wanted money over stability. His lack of knowledge in every aspect of leadership led to him believing all they were saying.” Koishi crosses his arms. “He thought you had been kidnapped by a country of the Alliance. He demanded that his ANBU be allowed to search every capital and hidden village to find you. Only Suna agreed, so he severed all commercial and trading deals Konoha had with the other nations.”

 

Sakura can't breathe.

 

“And once a year passed since you left the village, his councillors had spat enough venom into his ears that he decided Konoha was strong enough to make every other nation kneel. So the Leaf marched on Kumo and lost half of its army. But Kumo didn't make it. So the Leaf marched on Kiri, but by then most of its elite shinobi were deserting, so the army was crushed by Kiri's force. So the Nanadaime personally marched on Iwa, and after the death of many Rock shinobi, he was killed. In retaliation, the nations destroyed Konoha.” Koishi's voice is relentless, a hammer of truth crushing their brain. “We welcomed the deserters and integrated them into our villages, and we left the ruins of the Leaf to be reclaimed by the forest of your ancestors. That was the Fifth War, Haruno-sensei.”

 

Koishi hides his face in his hands, a heavy sigh ripped from his lips.

 

“I can't tell you how many of my friends I lost. I can't tell you how many people I killed, either. A lot of people blame the two of you for disappearing and letting all of this happen, but most know the real problem was the Konoha Council and whoever was stupid enough to put Uzumaki on the throne.”

“We patrol because the Alliance is shaky and Suna has sworn revenge for Konoha's destruction. The Kazekage... did not take well what happened,” Hōseki says.

“My advice?” Koishi says, rising his head to look at them. “Don't leave the forest. Ever.”

“Do you know—” Shikamaru chokes, and tries again. “Do you know if any Nara survived? If the Akimichi and Yamanaka made it?”

“And Tsunade-sama? Hatake Kakashi? Uchiha Sasuke and Sai?”

“Hatake was assassinated by the Council when he tried to oppose it. Uchiha supported Uzumaki till the end. Sai is the Head of Iwa's black ops and most of the three allied clans deserted to Kiri before the attack. I don't know what happened to the Slug Princess.”

Sakura swallows the dryness of her throat. “Will you tell anyone you saw us?”

“The Godaime. We don't have a choice. But knowing her, I don't think she'll send anyone after you.”

“We must ask you to leave, then,” Shikamaru says softly, staring blankly at the wall of their house.

As they rise, Koishi turns to look at them one last time. “Remember. Don't leave the forest.”

 

And they're gone, through the trees and following the river, leaving behind only the faint scent of something foreign.

 

“What do we do?” Sakura says in the silence of their home, her body slouching like a puppet without strings.

“We build a shrine,” Shikamaru answers, “and we pray for their rest.”

 

In a bitter mirror of their actions, seven years ago, they cut down trees and they build a small cabin, right next to the house. Neither of them received the training of the priests, but they went to pray often enough that they know the words, what to engrave around the doors, and who to pray to.

 

“What do we do?” Sakura asks again, late at night, both still heavy from the scent of the herbs they burnt instead of incense.

“We'll raise Sentaku with the knowledge of where he came from. We make sure he is _nothing_ like the people we left behind, so that his life is never in danger the way ours used to be. We see if there are any Nara left who might want to talk to us. And above all, love,” he says, breathing a kiss into her neck, “we live.”

 


End file.
